Crash & Burn Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t comment. Without any results from the Total Station, he wasn’t sure about the “or something.”
    Annie took in the wreckage as well, whining low in her throat. She was no longer dashing about, but regarding her handler fiercely. She knew, Wyatt thought. With a dog’s unerring sense, she understood it was time to work.
    Frechette told the dog to stay. She whined again but did as she was told. The handler walked around the scene, taking in the broken glass, the bloodstains, the pieces of warped metal. He was looking out for his dog, Wyatt realized, as was his job.
    The handler came around, peering in the rear passenger’s side window. “Think the kid sat back here?”
    â€œThat’s our assumption,” Kevin spoke up.
    â€œClean,” Frechette commented.
    Wyatt frowned. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, most of us carry a lot of shit in our cars. Extra jacket this time of year, snacks, bottles of water, I don’t know. Mail we haven’t taken into the house yet, dog leashes, random junk. At least, my vehicle has most of that stuff. Bet yours does, too.”
    Wyatt couldn’t argue with that. He stepped closer. First time around, he’d been focused on the damage in the front. This time, he saw Frechette’s point. The floor of the rear of the vehicle contained some shards of glass, most likely from the broken whiskey bottle or dragged from the front as the driver had crawled through. But, yeah, the normal detritus of everyday life—old coffee cups, bottles of water, snacks for the child, iPad for playing in the car . . . Nada. The rear seats, cargo area, held nothing at all.
    Apparently, the only item the driver thought you needed for a road trip was a bottle of Glenlivet.
    â€œThat a problem?” Wyatt asked the handler.
    â€œNot at all. Good news, really. I was worried the back might have more glass, be hard on Annie’s paws. Way I see it, we can load her into the cargo area, have her jump into the rear seats and get to work. Hey, Annie!”
    The yellow Lab, still obediently sitting next to Kevin, whined in response.
    â€œWanna work?”
    A single enthusiastic bark.
    â€œAll right, honey. Let’s go to work. Come, Annie. Come!”
    The dog bolted to his side, a yellow bullet that paused only long enough to home in on her handler’s face, awaiting the next command.
    â€œUp!”
    She leapt into the cargo area.
    â€œGo!”
    She was in the passenger’s seat, not sniffing, not exploring, big brown eyes still riveted to Frechette’s face.
    â€œOkay, Annie,” Frechette called through the open rear hatch. “Here’s the deal. There’s a missing girl and you’re gonna track her. Track, do you understand?”
    Wyatt thought this was a pretty colloquial approach to dog training, but what did he know? Annie certainly seemed to understand, ears pricked, body on high alert.
    â€œScent up!”
    The dog dropped her head, began snuffling over the seat, the door handle, the window. Her lips were peeled back slightly, as if she was taking the scent not just into her nose but into her mouth and tasting it.
    â€œGo find, Annie. Go find!”
    The dog whined, now working the rear seats in her own grid pattern, back and forth, back and forth. She was on the hunt, no doubt about it, her attention no longer on her handler, but 100 percent focused on catching scent.
    She backtracked. Moved from behind the passenger’s front seat to behind the driver’s seat. More anxious sniffing, another low whine. Exploring both rear car doors thoroughly, up and down, side to side. Then a first exploratory paw, stepping off the seat onto the glass-studded floor.
    Thank God for dog boots, Wyatt thought. He couldn’t have watched it otherwise.
    More whining, anxious, distressed. Then Annie was back on the seats, side to side, back and forth. Then with a graceful hop she was over, in the rear